have been the best move, but of course, he was too damned starved for that -
Abruptly, the wind shifted direction and came at him, and his nostrils flared.
Assail growled softly - and not in a warning. More like a greeting, of sorts.
As if he would e'er forget that particular combination of pheromones.
His little burglar had turned the tables on him, doing to him what he had done to her the night before. How long had she been on his trail? he wondered, a shaft of respect driving through his chest at the same time he grew frustrated.
He did not like the idea that she might have seen him under the bridge. Knowing her, though, he couldn't rule that out.
Drawing in a long, slow breath, he caught nothing else of significance. Which meant she was alone.
Information gathering? For whom?
Assail pivoted back around to the cottage and smiled darkly. No doubt once he was inside she would close in...and far be it from him not to give her a show.
He knocked once, and the female opened up again.
"Are we okay?" she asked.
His eyes went over her face, and then lingered on her hair. It was dark. Thick. Rather like his little burglar's.
"All clear. Just a human with car trouble."
"So there's nothing to worry about?"
"Not a thing."
As relief eased the tension out of her face, he shut them in together and threw the lock.
"I'm so glad you came back to me again," the female said, letting the lace-trimmed halves of her satin robe fall back apart.
Tonight she was wearing a black negligee that pushed her breasts high and made her waist look like he could span it with only one of his hands. She smelled overdone: too much hand cream, body lotion, shampoo, conditioner, and perfume marking her body.
He really wished she wouldn't go to the effort.
With a quick shift of the eyes, Assail checked the position of all the windows. Naturally, none of them had changed: There were two narrow ones on either side of the stone fireplace. A stretch of three panes of glass over the sink. And then that bowed-out section over to the left that was above the built-in seat with its cushions and needlepoint pillows.
His burglar would choose the window to the right of the fireplace. It was out of the glow from the lantern over the front door, and in the lee of the chimney.
"Are you ready for me?" the female purred.
Assail ducked his hand into the inside of his jacket. The thousand dollars in cash was folded once, the ten hundred-dollar bills forming a thin folio.
Moving sinuously, he put his back to the bay window and the fireplace. For some reason, he didn't want his burglar to see him make payment.
The rest of what was going to happen, however, he very much wanted her to witness.
"Here."
As the female took the money, he didn't want her to count it. And she didn't.
"Thank you." She stepped back and put the bills in a red pottery jar. "Shall we?"
"Yes. We shall."
Assail closed in and assumed control, taking the female's face between his hands, tilting her head back, and kissing her hard. In response, she moaned, as if the unexpected advance was something she not only welcomed, but hadn't dared expect.
He was glad she enjoyed it. But her pleasure was not what this was about.
Moving her around, he took her over to the sofa that ran down the little cottage's far wall, pushing her with his body, using his strength to lay her out with her head in the direction of the fireplace. As she reclined, she cast her arms out to the sides, rolling her breasts upward until they strained the satin cups that covered them.
Assail mounted her fully clothed and with his coat on, his knee going between hers, one of his hands reaching down and pulling up that floor-length negligee -
"No, no," he said as she went to wind her arms around his neck. "I want to see you."
Bullshit. He wanted her to be seen from the window.
Whilst she complied readily, he went back to kissing her and getting that long skirting out of the way - and the second it was, she split her legs wide.
"Fuck me," the female said, arching under him.
Well, that wasn't going to be possible. He wasn't hard.
But not everyone needed to know that.
In order to appear impassioned, he shrugged his overcoat free of his shoulders, and then with a quick slash of his fangs, he bit through the negligee's